Boston Tea Party
by Arufabetto
Summary: America invites England for tea in 1773 Boston with a proposition in mind. America x England. Rated M for hard yaoi. Oneshot.


A/N: I like what I spend my time in health and history class writing. c:

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"Thank you for visiting on such short notice, it really means a lot to me." The dark blonde haired man smiled, holding open the door for the man walking beside him.

The other man nodded vaguely and stepped into the room, taking a seat in one of the two chairs there, watching as the first man repeated the motion, seating himself across the coffee table from him. Or rather, tea table. Coffee was hardly the drink of choice in 1773.

The first man spoke again, shrugging off his jacket and piling in on the back of his chair as he did so. "Thank you again, and thank you for meeting me in Boston today, I know it's not our usual spot. But I've been living here lately, so I figured I'd show you my new house, while we discuss a few things.

England smiled. "That's lovely." He let his gaze wander, trailing it over the other nation's body, quirking an eyebrow in pleasure.

America blushed slightly. "P-please, England, we're here to discuss a serious matter."

"Yes, yes, very serious," England muttered, only paying half attention now, most of his attention now on the enticing muscles of his counterpart, visible through the tight black shirt he wore. "Tell you what. You give me what I want, I'll listen to your little proposition. Okay?" He leaned across the table, touching noses with America, who quickly shoved him away.

"Not today. Today you're going to listen to me," he said, standing up, firmly planting his feet on the ground. He stared down at England, eyes blazing.

England calmly stared back, a smirk planted on his face. He took a sip of the tea that was set on the table, and settled the cup back on the table before responding. "You seem to forget, America, darling, that I _own_ you," he said quietly, putting a deep emphasis on 'own.' "There's not much you can do." He smiled, cocking his head to one side slightly.

America sank back into his seat, nodding. "Yes sir."

"Good, good. Now then, are you ready to obey?" he purred, rising from his chair. He prowled over to where the other nation sat, and seated himself upon his lap, straddling his hips. He cupped America's face in his hands, pulling him forward with a series of gentle tugs.

Their lips met, and England pressed into the kiss, gently at first, then harder, nipping at America's bottom lip, requesting entrance into his mouth. For a moment the other nation refused, but England bit harder and America could do nothing but oblige. England slid his tongue into the younger man's mouth, running his tongue along the man's teeth and their tongues wrestled, each one fighting for dominance.

While they devoured the kiss, England's hands frisked over America's muscular body, quickly tearing off his shirt and undoing the buckle of his belt. But at this point, it was getting too far in the wrong direction, and America tossed England back onto the table behind him, the glass teacups shattering from the impact, sending the tea within them splashing across the table. The glass shards dug into England's back, leaving deep scratches as he rose, and the pain brought tears to his eyes.

America pressed himself back in the chair, panting. He, too, rose when England did, and before the other nation could get a word out, he had knocked him to the floor, pressing his hips against the nation below him and grinding gently. "I told you, England. Today, you listen to me. Today," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I'm the boss." He licked the tears away from the corners of England's eyes.

England stared at him, watching his reflection in his brightly polished glasses. He struggled against the other nation's pin, but found he couldn't escape the tight grip of his colony.

America moved in on the older nation, lightly brushing his lips against England's before shifting to his ear. He nipped at the upper cartilage several times before speaking. "Freedom," he whispered, lingering by England's ear afterward, letting his warm breath brush against his skin, sending a shiver down England's spine. "I want freedom." He paused between each word, laying a heavy emphasis on the final one.

He held England's hands at his side, but then intertwined their fingers and forced his arms back his head. England's eyes were wide and he continued to stare blankly up at his colony. America…America had never rebelled before. True, he was always hot headed, but he had always obeyed, always quietly submitted to whatever England wanted. This…this was new. "B-bloody hell," he stuttered.

America grinned. He had the empire in his grasp now. He was winning this battle, but he had yet to win the war. But for now, he was pleased with this. Not that the battle was over. Oh no, far from it.

America had been silent for several moments, just watching England with a sly smile and one raised eyebrow. England tried to keep still and quiet, but something in the way America was watching him sped up his heart rate and sped up his breathing. He licked his lips and weakly tried to clench his hand into a fist, squeezing America's hand in the process. America squeezed back, considerable harder. They stared into each others eyes for a moment. Then, without warning, America moved in on his neck, licking and biting at every vein and dip.

England gasped in a mix of surprise, pain, and pleasure. He grasped America's hands tight, toes curling and he squirmed slightly at the touch. America slid down to where the top button of England's shirt laid. He took it within his teeth and tore it off, repeating the motion for the buttons below it, letting England's shirt fall open, revealing his lightly sculpted chest and stomach beneath.

America released his grip on England's hands, moving his own down to England's chest, one on either side, his rough palms brushing against the pale, soft skin, thumbs massaging over England's hardened nipples. He slid one hand down to the low slung waistband of the other man's pants, running one finger along his hip bones. A shiver of pleasure ran down his spine, and England's hands flung up, lacing through America's tawny hair, pulling him forward into a deep kiss, their tongues twisting together, England savoring every bit of him, every second they were together, every flavor that was all America, unique to the other man.

Both of America's hands were down near England's waist now, fumbling blindly with his belt, trying to pull of the other nation's pants, feeling his hard member beneath. He tried to stroke and grasp it through the fabric, seeming nearly desperate now to remove England's clothes, his own clothes, to remove the barriers between them.

And he at last managed to tear off England's pants, and his own, and now there was nothing to separate them and they pressed against each other, grinding and touching, skin against skin. America's hands drifted along England's delicate body, down to the throbbing erection. He stroked it, running his hands down the entire length. England shook and quiet gasps and moans escaped his lips.

"America you…tease…if you're…going to…do something…do it," he hissed out between his heavy breaths. America smirked. One hand drifted back, behind England, cupping his ass. He brushed his fingers across his tight entrance, slowly inserting one, following it with a second, then a third. He thrust them in and out, England moaning in time with the motions. "Nnn…ahhh, America, please!"

He could wait no longer. America removed the fingers, going now to insert something better, the real star player. He pressed the tip of his erection against England's puckered entrance, sliding in; England gasped, hands grasping America's back, nails digging into the soft skin. America drew back and thrust back in, one hand on either side of the British nation's hips, pounding into his little friend again and again.

Pained and pleasured cries poured from England's lips, and he begged for more between each labored breath. America had no hesitation in obeying, continuing to drive himself into the other male in a steady rhythm, hitting the prostate nearly every time, sending shocks of pleasure through England's body with every move, and he moaned and yelped at each one.

At last America came, shooting it inside of England. He could feel the warmth released within him, and he came moments later, splattering his seed across America's chest and stomach. They both collapsed, still holding each other close.

For some time they laid there in silence, the only sounds their breathing and pounding heart beats that were slowly returning to normal. "Mmm, America?" England traced patterns across America's chest absentmindedly. He lifted his head to gaze into America's bright blue eyes.

America adjusted his glasses and gazed back at England. He caressed the lightly blushing cheek of the smaller nation. "Yes?"

"I-I think I'd like to consider your proposition." He drew back from America's touch, sitting up and leaning against the side of one of the chairs.

America followed him, sitting against the table, adjacent to where England sat. He smiled. "Thank you. Really." He leaned forward to England and placed a delicate kiss upon his lips. And it was a perfect kiss, gentle and loving and passionate, every moment of it whispering, 'I love you.'

The End.


End file.
